


Discovery of Love

by tisyGasmask



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1700s, Alternate Universe - Human, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 16:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisyGasmask/pseuds/tisyGasmask
Summary: An American and British spy must stop an assassination of a noble of France. The American is known for his one night charm, but what if it goes beyond that...just this once.





	Discovery of Love

Palace of Versailles, France-1769

Two men roamed along in a sea of many other quite rich gentlemen and their ladies, a low murmur or conversations filling the theatre entrance which was lit with extravagant chandeliers. People filed into the lavish theatre, taking their seats in awe of what their money had gotten them into. The men walked down to close seats close to the stage. As they sat down, most of the crowd had been seated as well.  
“Now Alfred, remember that we’re here for the assassin, not for any ladies you many find catching,” one commented with a British accent. His name was Arthur, Arthur Kirkland of England, spy of the crown.  
“I know, I know, I know better than to get my amazing looks get the best of me,” the one named Alfred replied. This was Alfred Jones, an American who was brought to England to serve out a weighted sentence as a spy alongside Arthur. “Shouldn’t we be using alias’?”  
“Hm-” the Brit was caught off guard, “oh, yes indeed, Claude.”  
“Yes indeed, Dorian.”  
They and the people all around them hushed as the lights dimmed and the orchestra started off with a small hum and chords while the large draping curtains swayed aside. A male in an expensive, dark blue nobles’ attire with embroidered flowers spanning across the man as if they were the ties keeping him together. That term could be used as he lifted his head, eyes closed, milky blonde curls gently falling from the side of his face, shackles and chains holding his arms towards the floor. The orchestra went quiet and what sounded like a cello plucked away at a steady pace. The man elegantly walked towards an arch of flowers in the near front of the stage. It took Alfred a moment to recognize what the flowers were, but as he remembered hearing descriptions of them, they were white peonies and red roses, clashing perfectly with the man’s elegant yet masculine attire.  
The cellist stopped and a piano started, and then the orchestra, and then quickly followed by the male who started singing. As an understatement you could say Alfred was star struck, the man’s voice was so soft and angelic, yet deep and grieving. He worked with the flowers on the arch, his eyes shutting and his mouth working. It was like watching an angel caress earth in their hands, singing a song down on to the snowy, dreary world with little hope left. When there came a break in the song for his voice, he opened his eyes and you could hear the crowd gasp lightly as he revealed icy violet eyes. Alfred’s eyes widened, and not in horror, yet in fascination and enchantment. Those eyes were unlike any others the American had ever witnessed with his own.  
“By God, look at the freak, no wonder he’s tied up, he’s probably a demon,” Arthur whispered to his companion.  
“He’s no demon, but an angel,” he whispered back.  
“Tch, you have to be kidding. You like him don’t you? I see that look in your eyes.”  
“Dammit-” Alfred hissed and he sat back.  
The man continued on with the song, only a small sign of worry on his face. Alfred knew if he was up there with all those people staring at him like an circus attraction, he would leave as quick as he could. He must’ve been used to it by now.  
Soon the song ended gorgeously and everyone started their applause. This was it, the moment. Arthur stood up and drew his gun, but it was Alfred who had noticed the panic on the singer’s face, and he looked down to see the conductor pointing a gun straight at him. The American drew his own gun and didn’t hesitate to shoot, hitting the assassin in the back of the head. Of course the crowd around them ran but Arthur put away his gun and he set a hand on his companion’s shoulder.  
“Nice shot,” he said.  
“Thanks.”  
The two watched for a moment before watching the singer slip off his shackles easily and running off stage, glancing at the two before quickly being met by another man and escorted away.

Palace of Versailles, one royal's room, France-1769

Matthew slipped on a silk robe with fur lining, taking a seat in front of a mirror. He stared at himself before running his hands through his hair. Picking up a ribbon from his vanity and taking some of his hair and tying it back loosley. Upon finishing the bow, he jumped as he heard a knock at his door. Still weary of the previous events, he grabbed a small dagger from under the wooden vanity and he called for the person to enter. Much to his pleasure, the blonde who he had seen in the crowd was in the doorway. He walked in, closing the door to leave them both in the dimly lit room. Matthew knew why he was here.  
“If you were looking for something to do after the show you should’ve met with the adventurers down the way,” he said quietly, avoiding contact with the blonde man.  
“If I wanted to see them I would’ve been long gone,” he replied. “Why do you assume I’m here just to...you know?”  
Matthew looked up at him, “Men are like that, I guess.”  
He nodded and walked closer slowly, “I’m Alfred Jones, a spy who was sent here to kill the assassin who was sent to kill you.”  
“Oh,” he looked back down, “thanks, but I’m perfectly capable.”  
“You sure? Up there on the stage, vulnerable, no weapon.”  
“I carry a dagger everywhere. I know why the assassin was sent here. And I assure you on my father’s name that I am not vulnerable at all.”  
Alfred paused, “Well what’s your name? Forget you father’s.”  
Matthew looked up at him, eyes filled with a small, fierce glare, “Matthew, son of Francis Bonnefoy, a noble.”  
“I should’ve known, you have his hair, kind of.”  
“Don’t say that. Just say why you’re here, wasting your probably valuable time on me when you probably have to go off and find some wretched adventurer to play around with,” the other snapped quietly.  
Alfred was caught off guard and he stared at him for a moment, “I...I just wanted to check in on you, see how you were holding up. Make sure some other foul human being tried to hurt you again.”  
Matthew hugged himself loosley, “Fair enough…” he murmured.  
The American stood up and headed towards the door, “Now that I know that you’re safe, I’ll leave you alone now,” he opened the door and stepped out before turning around, “and tell your damned father to pay attention to his gorgeous son sometime, with the regards of Alfred F. Jones of course,” and with that he closed the door, waking down the hall.  
Matthew panicked at the last words of the man called Alfred. How did he find out about his father? His mind raced, wondering if Alfred was one of the whores who visited his father, or one of the merchants who sold him his expensive perfumes, flowers, fabrics, adn imports of lavish desire. He stood up, throwing open the door, throwing his mind away and storming towards Alfred.  
“Matthew, is there something wro-” he was cut off by the slightly shorter man grabbing his shirt collar, pulling him down for a rough, passionate kiss. How could he not kiss back?  
In what seemed like a storm of kisses and groping, they stumbled back into Matthew’s dressing room, slamming the door shut and fumbling with it until it locked. Surprisingly, it was mostly Matthew who guided them around, pulling away and holding Alfred’s hand, leading him to a further room draped with silk. He whipped around and sat Alfred down on a pile of plush and posh cushions and pillows, covered with cozy fur blankets. They connected lust filled gazes as Matthew playfully stripped away his robe, only revealing a small pair of braies. The American leaned back, smirking devilishly as the half-Frenchman climbed on to his lap and whispering into his ear.  
“Everything we do in this room does not leave this room, it shall only be our secret,” he whispered.  
Alfred kissed his neck and hummed, “Whatever my princess desires.”  
That storm of kissing and groping returned, hans roaming all over each other and working off the other’s clothing quickly. Alfred could swear the other knew his mind as he led a trail of kisses down his chiseled torso. He looked up at him with those hauntingly beautiful, innocent violet eyes and he worked off his undergarments, taking please to his erection. The spy snaked a hand down and over the other’s head as he worked him in his hand before he look Alfred into his mouth, sucking gently. Damn, it’s his first time, Alfred said to himself in his head. He always took not of the littlest things, he was gentle, quick, spontaneous, and was trying to work around a fresh gag reflex. Though having a tough time, Matthew persisted, taking him deeper and deeper into his mouth. That issue quickly died down as it turned to pleasure. It killed the American as he looked up at him, moaning down on to him. In the matter of minutes Alfred was bucking his hips up to Matthew as he worked.  
“M-mattie, slow down, I don’t want to finish yet,” he grunted out and Matthew slowly got off oh him, a string of saliva connecting them.  
He climbed back on him, slipping down his undergarments the littlest bit before the spy ripped them off of hims carelessly, kissing him while grabbed the back of his head. They pulled off of eachother, breathless.  
“Now let me lead you, dear~”  
Alfred gripped Matthew’s luxurious hips and flipped him on his back, reaching a hand down and stroking his member, earning a pleasurable moan from him. They grinded their bodies together for a moment. Heat and passion was growing between them as they kissed sloppily.  
“I-is this going to hurt?” Matthew asked.  
“For a moment, but if you stay calm and relax then you’ll feel really good,” Alfred replied reassuringly.  
Matthew nodded and relaxed himself, letting Alfred hold him as he slipped a digit into him as he took a sharp breathe in. After a moment, he started slipping his finger in and out slowly, letting it get wet with the other’s slick. Soon, the half-Frenchman was squirming and mumbling.  
“Dammit Mattie, say s-something…”  
The other hummed for a moment, “I need you Alfred~!” he moaned out desperately, reaching up and wrapping his arms around the other’s neck.  
Alfred just moaned and started slipping in and out of his lover’s entrance, soon adding another digit and scissoring him steadily. The other tipped his head back, breathing heavily and gasping as a third finger was added. The spy shushed him as he pulled his fingers out, adjusting himself and sitting up.  
“You still want to go further, dear~?”  
“God, does it look like I want to stop here?” he hissed.  
Alfred chuckled and he gave Matthew a quick kiss on the cheek and he leaned back, aligning himself and slowly pushing in, allowing Matthew to get used to the feeling.  
“Let me know when you want me to move~,” he said, and Matthew nodded.  
“I...I think you can go, Alfred…” he said softly, and Alfred in turn smiled at his full name being used and the kind voice of the plentiful male beneath him.  
The American began to slowly push in and out, minding any signs of pain that the other showed in which he did little to non of. That ribbon that held back Matthew’s nhair slipped loose, letting his loose, golden curls fall as he shifted around with his absolute pleasure as the man on top of him drove into him. Like two magnets connecting, they fit perfectly, they worked in unison, love was the only thing that that could even be between them. Alfred felt he belonged, even with all the women and men he slept with. Matthew felt he did too belong, even with the absence of any courtship in his royal life.  
“Alfred, please, hold me~” Matthew whispered softly, and he complied. Alfred leaned down on top of him, wrapping his arms under the royal and working only his his, beginning to pick up pace.  
And their working together continued, both letting moans in absolute indulgence of the absence of any chaste feeling. 

Palace of Versailles, Morning, 1769

Sunshine rained in on the lovers, a tangle of feathered covers and linen sheets all anyone could see of them. And of course the last thing Matthew would and should have seen coming. A maid walked in. More specifically his maid that would make him get ready in the morning. She walked to the small room they were in and threw open the half open curtains, letting all that light rain in.  
Matthew was the first to wake. “Mm, Jeanne…?”  
“Morning, my lord. Please wake, you must visit with your father today,” Jeanne looked down on the pile of pillows, sheets, and bed covers and saw another body. “And get that poor prostitute out of her.”  
“Hm?” he looked down at Alfred and shook him awake. “This...this is Alfred. He is no prostitute, yet a spy from America...and Britain.”  
Jeanne gasped, “A spy! You know not to converse with a spy, nonetheless sleep with one!”  
Alfred sat up and raised his hand, “Not that kind of spy, but one to protect close monarchs or royal families of importance to the crown,” he said in a slur.  
“And an American working for Britain, what is with that?” the maid asked.  
“Criminal acts being forgiven, ones related to spying on the Brits.”  
The maid sighed and looked between a smiling Matthew and Alfred, “You may fix yourself up, Alfred, and my Matthew must get ready and be off.”  
Alfred nodded and looked to Matthew, “Thank you so much, but I must be off back to that stupid old’ country they call Britain. If you want to ever contact me, just call for The Crown’s retriever dog,” he said with a wink, kissing Matthew on the cheek and getting up.  
Matthew gave a small, sad smile and he gave him a small wave and he sat up. “For all it’s worth Alfred F. Jones,” he paused as Alfred turned to him, “I’ll really miss you.”  
“I’ll miss you too,” the spy said back with a smile. And with that, he gathered his clothes and left.  
“Well,” Jeanne said, “shall we get ready. Maybe while meeting with your father you can tell him all about this man you quite obviously like.”  
“Oh shut up!” Matthew giggled.  
“Maybe your father will approve of him,” she said as she slipped Matthew’s undergarments onto him.  
The young royal sighed, “Don’t let me get my hopes up, papa probably wants me to marry some voluptuous princess from some country, like that one girl. Like her.”  
“I’m sure of it.”  
“But I don’t want to be forced to love someone just for a child. In that case papa can have another child with some mistress or settle down properly.”  
“Mhm,” Jeanne hummed and finished dressing Matthew, picking some shoes out for him as he slipped some on.  
“I guess I really like that Alfred man,” he said as he took a step forward before hunching over and holding his back. “Damn!”  
“Oh dear, losing your virginity like that will certainly do that,” Jeanne said as she patted Matthew, “I’ll fetch you a cane.”  
Matthew watched as his maid walked off and he stood there, letting his feeling of loneliness sink in. He sighed and smiled, almost in a dream like state as he thought about his night with his beloved Alfred. “The Crown’s retriever dog, eh?” he mumbled quietly to himself.

Buckingham Palace, England-1771

“Oi! Alfred, you’ve been summoned to the king himself!” Arthur said, popping his head into his companion’s quarters.  
“Tch- why’d he want me?” he asked, not looking up from his wood carving.  
“Just get up, you bloody bastard!” he shouted at him before stepping out of the room.  
Alfred rolled his eyes and sat up, dusting wood shavings of himself and he trotted out of his room and quickly walked after Arthur. Upon both of them entering the throne room, they bowed and walked so they stood before the king. Beside him was of course his regular guards and such, but there was a nobleman and a shorter one near him with a dark blue veil over his face.  
“Your highness, you summoned me?” Alfred asked, trying to act pretty classy.  
“I did. I am happy to inform you that you are called to a vacation in France with a very good friend of mine’s heir, Matthew Williams,” he said, gesturing to the two people to the side of him.  
Alfred perked up at the name as he saw the shorter man take off his veil. “In the name of God, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” Alfred shouted as he ran towards Matthew, hugging and scooping him up, spinning him around elegantly.  
“I never thought I’d see you again. And I’m so sorry for not visiting, but I’ve been in Canada and this is my first time home,” Matthew laughed as he hugged his long lost lover.  
“God, I’ve missed you so much,” Alfred whispered as he embarrassed him, taking in the same scent he soaked in a few years ago.  
“I have too...I have too.”

The End So Far

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, i'm pretty proud of this. Heh, if you guys like it please comment and I might make a sequel or a series of this story. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
